Learning to Play the Piano
by Blood on the Sunflowers
Summary: What happens when Italy comes over to Austrai's asking if he can teach him how to play the Piano? What, do you think I'm going to tell you THAT in the summery? Read and find out!


Austria sat quietly at his piano, playing a few notes to himself, trying to conjure up something new he could play. He let his finger fly against many of the keys, creating beautiful melodies that could shake you to the core, yet they just didn't seem right in his head. He turned away from the piano, leaping to his feet, and started to pace the room in silence. His mind felt hazy and his whole world seemed so dull all of the sudden. Could it be due to the weather, he asked himself. Once glance at the light shining through the edges of the curtains and the endless blue that seemed to swallow the sky told him otherwise. He began pacing around the room once more, trying to figure out why he was in such a slump, and how to fix it, when suddenly he heard a loud banging on the door outside. He turned in surprised, thinking of calling Hungary to do it, then remembering, she no longer lived with him. He missed the days when he was younger; always having Hungary and Italy around, even though they seemed to bug him a lot back then. He truly cared about the pair, but like most countries before them, they moved on and left him alone by himself in his huge house of his. The house just seemed too quiet sometimes, and it gave him almost a hollow feeling in his chest, almost as if he would float away any second now.

He glided over to the door, wondering who would be visiting him at the moment, since it seemed he had almost been forgotten by the other countries. He stopped at the door, fixing his hair and straightening his outfit, before pulling it open, and gaping in surprise by which he saw.  
>"Ve~ Ciao Austria!" Italy yelled, pulling him into a hug, smiling his usual closed eye smile. Austria just stood there in shock until the Italian let him go, continuing to smile and waiting for him to respond. "Why are you here Italy?" He felt bad for snapping at him, but with his clouded head and the fact that Italy's unusually high pitched voice irritated him to no end, he was being put into a very bad mood.<p>

"Ve~ you play piano so beautifully Austria, I was wondering if you would teach me?" he asked, getting that almost dazed look on his face, laughing a little bit to himself.

Austria blushed a little at his words, but Italy's attitude and unnecessary laughter was getting to him even more, so he mocked "So why is it that you want to learn anyway?"  
>His happy attitude seemed to sober up quickly, and he got a somewhat determined embarrassed look on his face, his eyes staring at his shoes rather than at him, and stated plainly "I really want to impress someone, but I don't know how, so I thought learning to play like you would be the best way,"  
>Austria cocked my head to the side and gave him an odd glance, a mix of shock and confusion filling in his emotions. Italy was loved by everyone, meaning every state, every country, and every person who has ever met him. Why would he need to impress someone with music, when he could charm the pants off of any woman (or man for that matter) that he wanted?<p>

Austria quickly shook off the look of dumbfoundedness off his face, and nodded to Italy, watching as the Italian quickly straighten himself out a little, then jump in the air and yelled "Pasta!"

Austria let the Italian in and watched him skip over to the piano, already knowing exactly where he could find it. Was it so long ago, Austria wondered to himself, that Italy had left his household? He could still remember the earlier days, when he thought Italy was a girl, putting flowers in his hair, and sweeping up the porch outside. Now here he was in his household again, a full grown prosperous country, still acting the same way he did as a child. For some reason though, Austria put his hand against my chest, and could feel his heart pounding slightly faster than it normally did. What was this feeling, he wondered to himself, walking towards the large piano, watching Italy sit on the bench and touch the A key lightly with his index finger, over and over. It was a strange feeling in his chest, but for some reason...it didn't feel so bad, and the hollowness in his chest suddenly seemed to begin to slowly close up. He definitely liked this feeling, and he hoped that it would at least stay with him until Italy left so he wouldn't snap at the poor boy again.

Italy had stopped playing and was looking at Austria with wide, anticipated eyes, amber orbs meeting violet ones. Austria shook off the warm feeling that began to feel in his chest, sitting down next to Italy, and began with telling the man next to him about each key and showing him what note it made. Italy seemed to be hanging onto his every word, nodding his head a lot, keeping his eyes always either traced on Austria's face or his fingers when it touched the piano.

Austria had worried that Italy would be disruptive the whole time, but he was a model student, which was both helpful and bad at the same time. Good because Austria was actually enjoying the time spent with Italy on his piano, watching as the boy tried so hard to play each note right. Bad, because with every minute he sat together with the concentrated Italian, the feeling in his chest seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Finally two hours into it, Italy was playing Claire de Lune, by Depussy, a little too slowly and messing up a few keys, but what Austria thought was marvelous process.  
>He never would of thought that the Italian would find music such an interesting topic as he did, and felt a tug in his heart watching the look of concentration as Italy tried to remember which key to play next. He tried to block these feelings along with the images that came with them from entering his head. All he wanted to do right now was pin the Italian to the piano and... No, he couldn't think like that, it was wrong. He knew he couldn't continue this lesson with Italy, not with the lack of control he was suddenly dealt with. He waited until Italy had finished the song, looking up Austria with vulnerable, acceptance needing eyes and simply asked him "Ve~ how did I do?" Austria couldn't look at Italy without giving away what he felt, so he kept his eyes trained on his own hands instead, murmuring "You're going to have to leave now Italy,"<br>"Ve…Did I do something wrong?" Italy asked him, hurt filling out his words, cocking his head to the side and looking at Austria like a kicked puppy. One look, one look at the Italian's hurt face and Austria's calm and composure just cracked right in two. He pounced on him, Austria thanking himself for buying such a long bench, and more like attacked Italy's mouth then kissed him. He was sad to see that Italy's eyes were simply just wide with surprise, and that the usual passionate Italian suddenly turned stone cold. In embarrassment, Austria jumped to his feet and turned his back to him, eyes looking down at his shoes while his face became highly blotchy.

He told him, voice soft and heartbroken "You may go now Italy,"

He suddenly left a pair of arms circle around his torso, pulling him into a tight hug, the voice as smooth as silk, telling him "Ve~ it's alright Austria, I like you too,"

Austria turned around in surprise looking straight into the Italians smiling amber eyes and stuttering "B-ut I thou-ght you li-ked so-meone else..."

Italy laughed a little, now sounding it Austria's ears like tiny bells, telling him "I was talking about you silly,"

Austria stood there, completely dumbfounded at what had happened, but quickly shook himself out of it, and gave the small Italian a confident smile. Italy smiled back that closed-eyed smile of his, letting out a happy "Ve~" before pulling Austria into another hug, wanting to do anything but let him go.

Austria sat at his piano, hearing the sound of his front door slam, the sound of a happy Italians voice giggling into the distance, fixing his tie as he walked. (1) Austria at the moment was just finishing up the song he had just conducted, letting the piano sing out the happiness he was feeling inside. The music sounded all but too perfect in his ears, and he felt like he was floating on cloud nine. He wrote down the final notes, a small smile still perched on his lips, loving how the hollowness in his chest was completely filled, and how he knew that loneliness would no longer be his only companion. A stray thought of Hungary entered his mind, and he wondered what she would have thought of the situation. Unknown to Austria though, Hungary had been watching the whole thing threw his window, rolls of film and memory cards piled up next to her, making a pile as big as Mt. Kumajiro . She quickly stuffed them all in her bag, smiling wickedly and telling herself out loud "I should get those two together more often,"

(1) Let your imagine wonder, I'm not saying anything...


End file.
